I'll Be Watching You Read online

  The plastic unfurled slightly, inviting her to be brave and open it. She’d be the first to admit she wasn’t brave. Not brave enough to look at their totaled car, not brave enough to delve into the questions that didn’t make sense. And until now, too much of a coward to open the bag.

  Once again, her hands moved of their own volition, unwrapping the bag and spilling out its contents. Her gaze riveted on the watch with the cracked lens.

  Ponee.

  Jenna jerked around, though she knew the word had originated in her mind. It was Paul’s voice, yet she’d never heard him say it before.

  Ponee, Texas. Go, Jenna. Go to Ponee.

  She sat very still, concentrating on every sound. In the distance, a lawnmower droned, a seagull screeched.

  Maybe the grief was getting to her, that and the solitude. She often heard Paul’s voice inside her head, remembering things he had said. But she’d never heard of any Ponee, Texas. Paul hailed from Philadelphia, and neither had ever been in Texas.

  She waited for her heart rate to slow again before turning back to the watch. Paul had died at ten-thirty, or at least his brain had died then. His heart had kept beating for her, strong and healthy, and the rest of his organs had gone to others in need.

  She reached out, fingers hovering over the timepiece, the symbol of time and love shattered in one instant. Her breath hitched, and slowly, she lowered her fingers to touch the cracked glass.

  The room went black. A suit of panic and fear froze her body. The sound of glass shattering and metal screeching filled the car…the car? The steering wheel was slippery beneath the desperate grip of damp hands as the car careened into a telephone pole. It was Paul’s scream she heard as she sucked in air and wrenched her eyes open.

  Jumping to her feet, she swiveled around. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. All she heard was the sound of rushing blood in her ears. What was happening to her? Was she going mad? Her fingers gripped the back of the chair. She did not—could not—smell blood. The coppery essence lingered in her senses, an aftermath as real as the sounds and the fear of the car accident.

  It took her several minutes to gain her balance. She kept looking around the room to assure herself that she was indeed there. Her gaze drew back to the watch and then the ring that gleamed dully in the morning light.

  She found herself sliding back into the chair, though her whole body trembled. “Paul?”

  The word sounded jarring, ridiculous. She didn’t believe in ghosts or things supernatural, but what she’d just experienced was not her imagination. She’d never been in a car accident before, but now she knew exactly how it felt. Not just any accident either, but the one that took Paul’s life.

  A glass dome clock on the bookcase ticked loudly, as though urging her to again touch the watch. She sat staring at it for a long time, trying to talk herself out of it. She had no will of her own. Invariably her hand reached out once more.

  The moment the pad of her finger grazed the surface, Jenna was again enveloped in intense fear. The car took a turn too fast. Paul overcorrected, his hands too slick to grip the wheel. The back end of the car slid to the left. The headlight beams zigzagged across both lanes before spotlighting the telephone pole. Nooooooo! The horrible sounds crashed through her mind. Jenna’s body shook at the moment of impact, and she fell back against the chair like a rag doll.

  When she finally had strength enough to open her eyes, she again looked around the room. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing but what had gone on in her mind.

  Not my mind—my heart. Paul’s heart.

  “It’s just an organ, a pump.” She recited the doctor’s words in a faint voice, believing them no more now than she had then. Her gaze went to Paul’s wedding ring. She reached for it without giving herself time to fear what it might bring. Ready for more terror, she was surprised to be swept into an urgency … Do the right thing. Find the truth. It swirled around her like purple smoke, engulfing her with a purpose she had not felt in a long time. And then it was gone. She opened her eyes to find the ring clutched in the palm of her hand. Her fingers unfolded, and she stared at the simple gold band.

  “Paul, what does it mean?”

  He didn’t answer, but the sensation echoed through her as she continued to hold the ring.

  And then, several minutes later, his voice said, Ponee, Texas. Go, Jenna, go.

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  Jenna tilted her hand, and the ring rolled across the leather pad. She pushed herself to her feet and walked over to the bookcase. The atlas was tall and unwieldy; Ten months ago, even lifting the book would have been a struggle. She stood in the filtered slice of sunlight by the window and opened it to Texas. Ponee was a small town in the upper east corner; her finger had gone right to it.

  “This is crazy.”

  Jenna returned the atlas to the shelf and sat at the desk. She didn’t want to touch the ring or the watch again. She scooped up the plastic bag, clutching it tightly as she stared at Paul’s smiling face in one of the pictures. The almost sort of, mostly smiling face.

  “Why were you driving recklessly? You were afraid of something,” she found herself answering, remembering the fear even before Paul had lost control of the car.

  And what about the biggest question? Where had he gotten the four hundred thousand dollars in cash found with him?

  Jenna had given the police an answer that had satisfied her, at least for the most part: Paul had been on a house-buying expedition and had taken the cash to bargain with. The police had bought that after hearing that she and Paul renovated old houses for a living. But Jenna had been left with one niggling question: where had he gotten that kind of money?

  She wadded up the plastic bag. There was something else in it.

  For several minutes she was afraid to look. Paul wore only the watch and the ring, nothing else. She wanted to throw away the bag without looking. Even as she decided this, she dumped out another wedding band onto the desk pad.

  This one was more intricate than Paul’s, embedded with clear, perfect diamonds all around. It was also at least two sizes larger than Paul’s ring, with the minuscule scratches of many years of wear.

  She picked it up between her thumb and forefinger. This time it was startling anger that engulfed her, and a flash of night sky. The air was salty, like the ocean breeze at her house.

  Jenna dropped the ring. She had never seen Paul angry. His moods were steady, subtle. Whether he’d just smashed his thumb with a hammer, grieved over her damaged heart, or celebrated finishing another house, he remained calm and unemotional. Sometimes he would sink into a melancholy where she couldn’t reach him. Eventually he would come out of it, and then he would make love to her, but he never revealed what troubled him. She figured Paul was trying to protect her from whatever it was. Maybe it was her illness that painted him blue.

  So why was he doing this to her now?

  She had no doubt it was Paul. Where this knowledge came from, she didn’t know. She wasn’t frightened. No, not exactly frightened, but … concerned. All this meant that Paul had kept something from her. That meant she didn’t know him as well as she thought. The memories of the man she’d married kept her going, and if he wasn’t what she thought him to be, what did she have?

  Nothing.

  Sure, she had questions. But if the answers jeopardized all that she held precious, she didn’t want to know.

  She scooped up the pieces and put them into the bag, which she stuffed back in the drawer. And that’s when she saw the folded newspaper pushed to the back. When she pulled it out, she recognized it. A reporter from the Maine paper had come to the hospital, bringing a copy of the article he’d written about Paul’s car accident. He’d wanted an interview with the grieving widow who had received her husband’s heart. A great human-interest story, he’d said with a smile as dazzling and phony as a cubic zirconia. She’d declined, but somehow couldn’t make herself throw out the newspaper.

  Paul’s crumpled car ma
de the front page, and Jenna shivered as she took it in. Her eyes clouded over, and she blinked to clear them.

  The article had scant information about Paul, before they even knew what the cause of the accident had been, or if alcohol had been involved. Her gaze strayed to the headline article about a woman’s body found at the bottom of a cliff. Details were even sketchier about that incident.

  She started to fold up the newspaper, and found beneath it another dated two days later. This one included information about her transplant. Just as she started to throw both newspapers away, another article caught her eye. They’d found out who the dead woman was: Becky White. There was no evidence of either foul play or intended suicide. The nearby inn had been closed for the winter, and the woman had no business being there.

  The strangest part was, the woman had no business even being in Maine. Jenna dropped down into the chair, legs weak as she blinked to make sure she’d read correctly. The words were there in black and white.

  The woman had no business being in Maine because she lived in Ponee, Texas.

  When Jenna rested her head upon her pillow that evening, it was with thoughts of the baby she and Paul could have had. Those were the thoughts that kept her sane. She dreamed of her gray eyes and Paul’s sensual mouth on a little girl who laughed as she ran around the gazebo, or delighted in the smiley faces on the beach left by mermaids.

  When Jenna woke suddenly, she found herself down in the office, phone clutched in her damp palm. The yellow pages were splayed open to travel agents, and a woman on the other end of the line was saying, “All right, Mrs. Elliot, I’ve got you on a Delta flight at eight-fifty this morning into Dallas Fort Worth. According to my map, that’s just a few hours’ drive from Ponee. A rental car will be waiting at the airport, and your plane tickets will be ready at the counter in Boston. I believe everything’s in order. Thank you for calling Twenty-Four By Seven Travel, and I hope you have a pleasant trip.”

  Thank you for reading this sneak peek of In a Heartbeat. Find links to it and all of Tina’s novels at www.WrittenMusings.com/TinaWainscott and www.TinaWainscott.com.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I hope you enjoyed I’LL BE WATCHING YOU! If you did, I’m happy to tell you that I have many other novels available for your pleasure in different subgenres of romance. I’m the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than thirty novels published with St. Martin’s Press, Harper Collins, Random House, Harlequin, and Written Musings.

  I have always loved the combination of suspenseful chills and romantic thrills, especially with a bit of paranormal thrown in, so I decided to release my favorites in the Love & Light Collection. Although many of the stories have connections to other books in the series, all the novels are stand-alone stories—no cliffhangers!

  Find the entire collection at www.WrittenMusings.com/TinaWainscott

  and www.TinaWainscott.com.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks go to Joe Agresti for his assistance in matters of law enforcement. His help and patience are immeasurable. As always, any misinterpretation of the law is the author’s.

  My appreciation goes out to good friends Amy and Andrew Winch for helping me with both plotting and research. Cheers to you both.

  My gratitude to Michael Ramsey, who shared so much about his life with alligators. Not only did you contribute greatly to Zell’s profession, you inspired it to begin with.

  And a big thank you to dear friend Kim Wooten, who not only inspired a few of the characters in this story, but shared so much of her Everglades wisdom and knowledge.

  Thanks to Linnea Sinclair and TJ for all your help with my E-books!